


Asher Learns to "Adult"

by Kenta



Category: Original Work
Genre: Leather, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Rough Sex, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 08:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8197313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenta/pseuds/Kenta
Summary: Asher got his heart broken and now his father is there to make him feel better, but not in the way most would think.





	

The heartbreak was heavy on him as he raced him, tears falling in torrents that he couldn’t control anymore or, rather, he didn’t want to stem. The boy he’d loved (or what passed for love to a thirteen year old) had broken his heart, going back to his girlfriend as opposed to claiming Asher Lautner as his own. His only defense to such pain had been to run. That running had brought him home to the house he lived at with his father. His key turned in the lock. It had been his intention to race past his father and not let him see the tears. Unfortunately, Taylor Lautner wasn’t so easily fooled or easy to get past.

“Ash, that you?”

“Yes, sir. Just going upstairs for a little bit. Be back down in a...”

The lie had no chance to bloom once his father stepped into the room.

“Fuck are you crying for, Ash?”

“Nothing.”

Even Asher didn’t believe the words as they escaped his lips.

“Bullshit. What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, OK? Just...”

“Just what?”

“Just some fucking asshole broke my heart. That’s all, OK?” For a minute or two, Taylor said nothing. Maybe he was mulling over his next response or was unsure what to say to comfort his only son. He looked at Asher, his features in duplicate. They both had that same olive skinned complexion, same dark eyebrows, same eyes. When he really looked at him Taylor saw that Asher looked like he had when he was that age. Taylor had even seen his smile in the particularly mischievous things he'd on occasion caught his son doing. Now his face was screwed up in anguish, the only difference between the two as Taylor’s visage was surprisingly blank. Finally he reacted, choosing the former between and reacting with anger as opposed to understanding. “Are you fucking kidding me?! You’re upset over some swinging dick?!”

Before Asher could answer or even retort Taylor’s hand planted a stout slap across his face. It echoed off walls and in its wake left silence. Asher’s sadness disappeared instantly, only to be replaced with absolute rage. He looked at his father with blood in his eyes. It was therefore surprising when his father laughed at him before speaking again.

“I bet you’re fucking pissed, huh?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How pissed?”

“Extremely.”

“Use you damn words, boy. Like I taught you.”

“I’m extremely fucking pissed, OK?”

Taylor smiled wide again, nodding his approval at Asher’s amazing choice of words.

“Good job, Ash. We’ll make a bad boy of you yet. Let’s go to the den.”

“Yes, sir.”

Asher followed his father to the den, the one room in the house he was never allowed without his father’s permission. The wall was covered with various guns and a gun belt he’d always admired. It was his father’s, a Heavy Saddle Leather Pistol Cartridge Belt, black. He’d learned from his father that it had a Mexican loop holster, something he didn’t quite understand but something that sounded impressive all the same.  
Taylor caressed the gun belt as he sat in his chair, searching for his package of Marlboros. He found them under the chair along with his Zippo. Once he’d settled in it doesn’t take long for the cigarette to burn to life. As soon as it had he tossed the package to his son.

“Light up.”

Without a word Asher takes a cigarette from the pack and lights it. A few good inhales allow the tobacco to fill him up and he exhales in a deep breath. Taylor watches him out of the corner of his and speaks after a particularly mighty puff. “You been keeping up with your lessons?”  
In response Asher blows a few smoke rings. They float through the air heavily before dissipating after a moment or two. This is followed by a few French inhales, a trick that Asher had always been good at. Taylor smiled again, his pride apparent even before he spoke.

“That’s the kind of shit I like to see...keep it up.”

“Yes, sir.”

A few more French inhales and more smoke rings follow and the room slowly begins to fill with their smoke. The cigarette burns and Asher, having used his lit companion to appease his father, enjoys it until all that is left is the butt. He places it in the nearby ashtray as his father looks at him. “You been keeping up with the rest of your lessons?”

“Yes, sir.”

"Show me."

Taylor unzips his pants, allowing his half erect cock to fall free. Asher looks at it, transfixed for a moment. He still hadn’t fully gotten used to his father’s size. His hand reaches for him and grips him. A moan escapes. “Mmmmm...”

The first stroke was slow, focused. Taylor felt the confidence in his son as he began stroking him. It was a mixture of subtly good feelings and a quickly growing experience. This pace continues for a few more minutes but slowly begins to increase in its intensity. A flash of a previous lesson came to him as he continued stroking his father avidly.

"What you want to do is stroke slowly but not at a snail's pace. Your grip should be firm on the cock without squeezing the life out of it. Also, throw a little wrist in there. Like this..."

As he thought on this, Asher rotates his wrist while he strokes his father, the pleasure of the it yielding a soft moan from Taylor's lips. The handjob continues until Asher abruptly stops and kisses the tip of his cock, another of his father’s lessons playing on repeat in his head. "As with anything, you can put your own spin it. But keep the basic principles in mind. Now...try again." Asher was confident in what he was doing but his father's moaning was proof of just good he was doing much to him. He incorporated the wrist motion his father had suggested, going down on him after every seventh circle. It happened then, the ultimate confirmation that he was doing a good job. "Shit...so fucking good. Work that dick..."

Taylor was almost lost in feeling before he pulled away and cleared his throat loudly, as if the noise itself could calm him. After a fashion it did and he was ready to continue. Asher, eager to please his father in a way without using his hands, looks up at him.  
"How did I do, Dad? Told you I’ve been keeping up with my lessons."

"Fuck yes you have. Damn good, Ash. Keep practicing and you'll be even amazing at it. Ready to try something new?" “Sure.”

Taylor opens a cooler near his chair, a cooler that Asher hadn’t rightly noticed before. He reaches inside and grabs a Budweiser. He tosses one to Asher. Asher catches it by instinct and looks at it.

“The fuck is this?”

“A Budweiser, dumb ass. Your first beer. You want to be a bad boy...you gotta drink like one.” Asher looked at the brown bottle dubiously before opening it. He'd never had beer but figured it couldn't be that bad judging by how his father seemed to be inhaling his own. Taylor looks up from his half empty bottle and looks at his son with a smirk.

"It's not poisoned, you know. Drink it."

Asher looked at the brown bottle dubiously before opening it. He'd never had beer but figured it couldn't be that bad judging by how his father seemed to be inhaling his own. Taylor looks up from his half empty bottle and looks at his son with a smirk.

"It's not poisoned, you know. Drink it."

Shrugging in a way that implied that he might as well, he twists the top off. He puts the bottle to his lips and sips, drinking too much on the first sip. A rush of coughing and sputtering follows this and Taylor looks at his son with slight disappointment, slight disgust.

"Asher."

"Yes, sir?"

"If you get nothing more from these lessons, remember this: you don't waste fucking beer. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now try again."

The second sip was measured, careful. Once he'd allowed the beer to trickle down his throat, he enjoyed it. It was cold, flavorful, good.

"Damn, that's good..."

Asher continues sipping on the cold beer until the bottle is empty. He looks over at his father, the last few drops of beer moistening his lips as he spoke.  
“Got any more beer, sir?”

In answer to his son’s query he opens the cooler to show a rather impressive number of Budweisers nestled in the ice. Taylor smiles, nodding as he speaks.  
“I figured you’d like it...so I bought a couple twelve packs. Here’s another.”

Taylor tosses his son another bottle and he catches it quickly. Both twist the tops off of their beers and drink deeply as Taylor searches for the remote.

“Let’s see what’s on...”

As if by some perfect turn of events the remote isn’t for the TV but for the DVD player. Inside it was a porno cued up to one of Taylor’s favorite scenes between two handsome, muscular men. Their grunts of pleasure fill the room as the two drink their beers. In his chair Asher feels himself getting hard at the sight of the passions portrayed on the screen. Somewhere between the third and fourth beer they began kissing again, fiercer and more uninhibited this time. Tongues fought and mouths were forced together in painful, rough meetings. Each enjoyed it thoroughly and grunted their approval as they bit lips, licked necks, and gripped hair.  
By the fifth beer they were naked.

Taylor had been waiting to teach his son the final lesson, how to fuck and be fucked. Tonight was another of those nights where his resolve and patience wavered. He watched his son lick every inch of him, massaging his balls and refusing to take him into his mouth in an almost teasing way. He wanted him so badly that he was near exploding for the mere thought. Instead he contented himself with the words.

“My turn...”

Without a word of complaint Asher stood and took the seat his father was only moments before sitting in. Taylor looks at his son’s body and feels the lust strong again. But he falls on his knees and looks up at his son, a lascivious look on his face. He takes his son full into his mouth with no warning and sucks him as thought trying to extract more than cum from him. Asher’s body and lips reply.

“Fuck!!”

At this Taylor releases his son from his mouth and speaks.  
“Tomorrow, after school...I’m picking you up.”

“Cool. Why?”

“We have an errand to run. Should be pretty fun. OK?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now...you want me to finish sucking your cock?”

“Yes, sir. Suck this fucking cock...NOW!”

Asher, drunk as he was, rubs the head of his dick on his father’s lips. Taylor smirked and obliged his son in the same manner as before, yielding moans and grunts in sync with the DVD.

The rest of the night passes in background noise from the TV, multiple climaxes, and and twelve empty bottles of Budweiser

* * *

Asher was slightly hung over most of the day at school, a side effect his father had warned him of the next morning. He’d been given an aspirin and told to take it when and if the headache got to be too much. He’d tried to hold off on taking it being that he wasn’t the biggest fan of pills. But the headache had him with his head down on his desk so he’d taken it. Within about five to ten minutes he felt a lot better.

Lunch helped, a greasy lunch of double cheese pizza and a few stolen French fries from a friend. This had been another tip his father imparted and it worked just as well as the aspirin had.

The day ran by quickly and as he walked outside after the final bell he saw his father’s car waiting for him. He smiled to himself, remembering last night. With those thoughts in his head he gets into the car. The two greet with a nod of the head and take off. Once they had been driving for a while, some twenty minutes Asher gets curious.

“Umm, sir?”

“Hmmm? What’s on your mind, Ash?”

“I was just wondering...where are we going?”

“Quigley’s. I think it’s time you had your own gun belt so you can stop looking so hard at mine.”  
Quigley’s was one of the few places what still sold and serviced Western era pistols and cartridge belts. Since he was about eight Asher had always wanted to come here with his father. For the intervening years he’d pestered his father to no ends about it. Now they were on theor way there, Asher feeling like a little kid all over again. Once they pulled and parked the silence was thick with anticipation. As they enter, Taylor speaks again.  
“Find yourself a pistol and a gun belt. Make sure they’re good ones, OK?”

“Yes, sir.”

Asher goes off to look for his pistol while Taylor chats up Quigley, the owner and an old  friend of his. They talk for the expanse of about fifteen minutes when Asher returns with a pistol and a gun belt slung over his shoulder. Quigley grabs both and studies them for a second before looking back at Asher.  
“You know what you got here, boy?”

“No, sir.”

“This” he motioned with the gun belt and the pistol, “is Deluxe Western Cross-draw Holster with a Heavy Saddle Leather Pistol Cartridge Belt and a Cattleman Revolver. Your boy has taste, Taylor.”

Taylor smiles at this, simply saying, “He is my son after all, Quig...”  
“That he is.”

Asher heard the two men laughing among themselves as the transaction was finished. As he strapped the gun belt into place he admired the look of it against his jeans. A hand fingers the handle as the two men continue talking. In that moment the question occurred to him from nowhere and he asked it just as suddenly.  
“What’s it like to get shot?”

There is silence at this, a silence that couldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes. When it was broken Taylor didn’t speak to his son but rather Quigley. “The private rooms still open?”

“Yeah. Even got the adapted paint rounds in there.”

“Nice.”

“How long do you think you boys will need?”

“Maybe like thirty minutes. That work?”

“Yeah. Keys are behind the counter. Lock the door behind me. Going to get lunch.”  
Quigley and Taylor exchange a handshake. On the way out Quigley gives Asher a slight nod, which he returns. He turns back to his father, seeing him strap on his own gun belt.

“Quigley has a training room downstairs that simulates a real gunfight. It’s a lot of technological wizardry but rounds have the same impact as being shot. Additionally blood can be drawn and you can die. It’s set in a way that a sensual or erotic touch restarts your heart. He even has a closet full of outfits down there, make it that much more realistic. Shall we?”

Asher nods and follows his father down to the basement training area, the excitement returning despite the prospect of being shot. Once they were downstairs the closet stands before them. Taylor motions towards it with a sweeping motion.

“Take your pick.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll meet you in the training room, OK?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t take too long.”

“Yes, sir.”

It took Asher about ten minutes to find his outfit. He settled on black leather pants, black cowboy boots with  silver spurs. The vest he’d picked had been black leather once. Now it was faded and torn at a corner. Asher caught his reflection in a mirror, pleased.

“Perfect.”

He walks towards the training room, his spurs jingling against the floor. Once inside he sees that it had bee decked out in an Old West theme, complete with tumbleweeds, red dirt, and the store fronts.

“Looking good, Ash.”

Taylor wore black jeans, brown cowboy boots with gold spurs. He wore a brown, dull leather vest with nothing under it like Asher.  
“Same to you, Dad.”

“Load up.”

Taylor motions towards a stack of rounds behind Asher He took them one and one by one, loading them into the six slots in his revolver.  
Taylor did the same.

“You remember what I always said about drawing a pistol?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Time to put it in practice. On three...we draw and shoot. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“OK. Here we go. One...two...THREE!”

Asher was the amateur of the two and was blasted off of his feet by his father’s quick three shots. Three holes appears on Asher’s chest in a tight pattern, stopping his heart. His hand is stained with the blood, blood that looked more real than Asher had even expected. A few staggering footsteps backwards and Asher falls backwards with a final sort of thud. The blood began to pool, mixing with the red sand to make an unusual mud. Taylor smirks and speaks as he watches his son dying.  
“Looks like the first round goes to me. Now...for my prize.”

Taylor unbuttons the shirt that was stained with both bullet holes and blood, the one through his heart most prominent. His eyes greedily take in his son’s body as he sucks on his left nipple while guiding a hand across his abs. At once the wounds heal and Asher’s heart starts up again. He gasps and that gasp gives way to a soft moan at his father’s touch.

“Mmmm...”

“How does that feel, Ash?”

“Fantastic...”

“I figured. If you can get me next time...maybe you’ll get the chance to make me feel the same.”  
Taylor stands and extends his hand to his son. Asher takes it and stands, buttoning his shirt as he looks at his father.  
“Ready for another go, son?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then get ready.”

Their combative stances returned in equal measure again as they prepared to draw for the second time. Asher’s hand hovered over his weapon. He had to win this one. His father was fast, admittedly. But Asher thought and hoped that his youth would lead him to a victory this time.

He counted off.

“One...two...THREE!”

Taylor showed his speed again, this time catching Asher between the eyes with a perfect shot. To his credit Asher had gotten his weapon from his holster and put a few bullets in his father’s upper thigh. He limped towards his fallen son, cursing the pain in his leg with each excruciating step.  
“Little fucker got me...now I’ll get him.”

Taylor places his lips to Asher’s and kisses his still form, knowing that he’d awake in a moment or two. True to form he does, grabbing the back of his father’s head and kissing him deeply. As their tongues caress and explore mouths their wounds heal. It is beyond their notice as they continue kissing for another five minutes. When they break apart, Asher looks his father in the face.

“One more time...ready?”

“Ready when you are, son.”

They stand again and face each other, ready for one last duel.

“One...two...THREE!”

Both were rather fast of the draw but Taylor was just a second or two faster. Asher fell, gripping his chest as the excruciating pain of the impact dropped him. He lies there for a few moments, the pain still moving through him before death takes him again.  
His father stands over him, smirking.  
“Got you, little bitch...”

Asher falls, the shadow of the yell plastered on his face. The words come out in a soft little whisper.  
“It hurts...it fucking hurts...”

“You in pain, Ash?” It was said in a mocking tone, a babyish thing that Asher had always hated hearing form his father. It may have had more of an impact if he’d actually heard it at full volume. The sound of it was far away, though, as if he were hearing it through a long tunne.  
Suddenly, for the third time, he was still.

Taylor looks at him, tilting his head. As he looks at the fallen Asher the smirk intensified.  
“Now that I’ve got you here...”

The zipper on the is lowered as soon as Taylor gets on his knees next to his fallen son. Leather is spread as Taylor’s hand finds his son’s cock. He grips it roughly, feeling it grow hard under his touch. A soft whimper escapes his son, one that sounded nothing like the anger of a few moments before. Through boxers he grips him, stroking him as he moves up his body to his lips. Their kisses are rough and hungry, tongues probing each others’ mouths. They break apart as Taylor kisses down his son’s flat stomach and back to the erection trying to escape his boxers.  
“He looks uncomfortable...”

With one motion Asher’s cock is pulled free from its cotton prison and stands erect as Taylor softly strokes it. As before the prone form is brought back to life. His recovery is quick as he watches his father’s movements. Asher, lost somewhere between longing and pleasure, speaks.  
“Don’t just look at it. Please that fucking cock.”

Taylor smirks at his son, kissing the head of his cock before reaching for his pistol. He spins it by the trigger guard a few times before rubbing the cold metal down the length. Its temperature sends a shiver through Asher, a shiver that seems to intensify as his father sucks on the head of his cock while rubbing the pistol up and down his cock. He wanted to speak but all he could muster was a moan. “Mmmmm...”

He takes the moan in and sucks the head more furiously while keeping up the same pacing with his pistol. He feels his son’s body tense up after twenty minutes of this torture, knowing that his climax was coming. As much as he wanted to swallow every drop of him he stopped. This continued a few times until Asher could take no more. He said it menacingly and in a sultry way at the same time. “My turn...”

Asher pushes his father onto all fours at this point, grabbing a knife he’d hidden in his boots. Taylor looks at him over his shoulder, a smirk coming to his lips.  
“A knife to a gunfight? Intriguing...”

“Shut the hell up...and turn your ass around.”

He does it without another word. The knife begins to cut through his clothes expertly, leaving only the Speedo he’d been wearing underneath. Taylor was aroused by the knife work and the throbbing erection was proof positive of it. Asher felt his father’s erection then found himself pleased that he and his knife work had garnered such a visually pleasing response.

He then cut off the Speedo, leaving his father fully exposed.

“Spread your legs.”

Taylor did it, unsure of what was about to happen but excited all the same.

“Suck this.”

Asher puts a finger in front of his father’s face and he sucks it avidly as if it were his cock again. He removes the finger from his father’s lips and slowly slides it into his ass. The gasp came out more profane and more whispered than Taylor had wanted.  
“Fuck...”

Asher’s finger slowly strokes inside his father as he slides between his legs and sucks on the head of his cock with the same intensity his father had used moments ago. To add to he picks up his father’s pistol and strokes his cock with in the same slow motions that had been used on him.  
“That shit feels fucking...fucking amazing...”

The motions continue in a furious triad of pleasure and speed that makes Taylor’s body tense up as he feels himself about to cum. Maybe Asher felt it too because he kept going faster and faster with each of his triumvirate motions until the moment came when Taylor could hold out no longer.  
“FUCK!!!!!”

Asher swallowed every drop of his father’s seed, licking him clean as he, naked, stood and put his gun belt on.  
“So Dad...you’ve taught me to kiss, to drink, to suck cock, smoke, and what it feels like to be shot. Got any more lessons?” Recovering himself slightly, Taylor turns over on his back and looks at his son.

“Oh yeah. That lesson is for tonight. I hope you’re ready.”

“Yes, sir. I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I didn't add the archive warning for major character death because no character truly dies. If you think I should add it let me know. Also please pardon any formatting issues, this was pasted from a Word document which already had messed up formatting. I tried my best to fix it.


End file.
